


Out of the Sun

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He falls in love with Coward long before he is aware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I felt a craving for some not quite just fluff truly in love Blackwood/Coward.

He falls in love with Coward long before he is aware of it. 

They don't move in quite the same social circles, to be sure, but they meet often enough, on the edges of those groups, to have a recognition of each other. Coward is the shining new star of parliament, admired and envied in equal amounts, whereas Blackwood has a shady past, too many rumors associated with his name to really be welcomes into any intimacy with the powers that be. 

But when Coward happens to be near when Blackwood disagrees with something he believes, he is quick to jump in, quick to comment, and it develops from Blackwood's parry into a full discussion. Coward is deft, and passionate, and he doesn't have the stock of condescension that so many others do, and he actually listens to Blackwood.

Their discussion moves on, drifts to other topics, and it is some time before they both realize that they have quite monopolized each others company. Blackwood lets his mouth quirk up at the realization, and Coward tilts his head to the side, smiling openly, eyes considering. "Until we meet again," he says, and Blackwood hopes, quite selfishly, that it is not long. 

*

It's not. 

Coward sends an invitation round after only a few days, and he accepts, of course. Once again he finds himself caught up in playing off Coward's mind, finding the delicate touches of his humor, in the uncomplicated regard Coward gives him. It continues, again, and again, until Blackwood finds others have noticed, enough to begin seeking out his company. For surely there must be something to him if someone as exalted as Lord Coward chooses to spend such time with him. It is what Blackwood has been trying for, but in the end he spares them only crumbs of his time, for they pale next to Coward's company. 

And Coward – Coward gives every indication of actually enjoying his company. Not merely tolerating it, or finding some political use for it, but enjoying it, seeking him out more and more frequently for inconsequential matters. Blackwood teases him once, suggests that surely he has friends better suited for such things. 

"Are you not my friend, then, Henry?" Coward asks, almost sly. 

Blackwood ducks his head to hide the smile Coward's words provoke, unable to stop it, and doesn't reply. 

*

Coward smiles, now, when he sees Blackwood; a smile that is sweet, affectionate, wholly inappropriate, and reserved solely for Blackwood. It is a smile that Blackwood finds himself responding to without intending to, a feeling of curious lightness coming over him when he does. He finds himself chasing that smile, putting in the effort to make it appear far more frequently. 

One day, Coward smiles at him, and Blackwood thinks, quite calmly and warmly, of responding with a kiss, of tasting Coward's lips, teasing him until he sighs into Blackwood's mouth. Thinks it, and realizes just as rapidly how far he has fallen. 

It doesn't take that much longer for him to land, to finish falling and take the final step. He's never been one for patience, for waiting and hoping. "Daniel," he says, leaning back against the desk, and Coward turns to him, questioning, the late afternoon sunlight catching in his eyelashes, turning his eyes crisp and golden tinted. He holds out a hand, and Coward comes to him, unquestioningly, even when Blackwood pulls him in, closer, closer, until they are breaths apart, Coward's head tilted up, eyes fixed on Blackwood's and lips every so slightly parted, inviting, inquiring. Blackwood kisses him, then, leans forward and presses his lips to Coward's, soft and warm and faintly tart, and waits, waits, until there is no more waiting for Coward is kissing him back, slowly, lazily, something gentle and welcoming and sweet. When they break apart, Coward gazes up at him with heavily lidded eyes and smiles, wide and happy, and leans in, head tucked down, until his chin rests against Blackwood's chest. Blackwood tilts his head down as well, lips pressed lightly to Coward's forehead. 

They stand in silence, arms curved loosely around each other, content, for a long time.


End file.
